


The Two Days That Changed His Life

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Community: hd_erised, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sick Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Draco believes he is happy with his current arrangement with Harry. A conversation with Pansy and Harry being injured force him to re-evaluate that belief, however.





	The Two Days That Changed His Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citruskk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citruskk/gifts).



> This fic was a nice challenge for me. I rarely write anything this angsty. Citrus_lime, I hope you like it! My never-ending thanks to S for the amazingly quick beta! You’re a wonder!

_Sunday, April 25, 2004  
_

**NEW POTTER-MALFOY ALLIANCE!**

_It has come to this reporter’s attention that Draco Malfoy, infamous ex-Death Eater and heir to the extensive Malfoy fortune, has been spotted spending an inordinate amount of time with Harry Potter. Potter, 23, is widely known as the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the boy who lived, and the defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He is the wizarding world’s most sought-after bachelor and, reportedly, on track to become the youngest Head Auror in the history of the Ministry of Magic. The pair were spied together early Friday morning, speaking over breakfast at the popular new Diagon Alley café, Roasted. According to an eyewitness, who wished to remain anonymous: “They were sitting towards the back of the shop. It was darker back there, but they didn’t seem to mind, if you know what I mean. They had a quick, quiet conversation before Malfoy shook his head and exited the shop.” Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, Malfoy, also 23, has avoided any kind of interaction with yours truly. He does not attend social events, has cut ties with many of his school friends, and spends much of his time in Malfoy Manor, which he inherited when his parents – equally infamous ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and wife, Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black – relocated to France two years ago. His mail order potions business is said to be booming, however, despite his notoriety. Malfoy and Potter developed a famous rivalry during their time at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Could this old rivalry have erupted again? Or, could it be something more? Watch this space!_

“Fucking Rita Skeeter!”

The newspaper fluttered as Draco slammed it on the table beside him. He huffed when Pansy cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Whatever happened to ‘this is only sex, Pans’? Now you’re having breakfast with him? What next, a mini break to France to meet the parents?”

She was joking, he knew. Still, it was frustrating. He and Harry had been so careful to not be seen together by anyone who was not a friend or immediate family member. The one goddamned time that they had broken their own rule had been the Friday two days previous and even then, it had been because Harry had been called into work early. They had figured that maybe there would not be too many people around, but it seemed that it did not matter how few people saw them together, as one of those few had ratted them out. He sighed.

“It _was_ just sex the last time you asked.”

“So, it’s not now?”

“Will you let me finish?”

Pansy raised her hands in a defensive gesture, but shot him a grin that had him shaking his head. “Go right ahead, please. Tell me all about how in love you are with ‘The Saviour’.”

Draco could hear the capitals in Pansy’s voice. Her tone caused an unwilling smile to cross his face. The truth was that in the eight months that he and Harry had been… Well, he couldn’t call it ‘dating’, as mostly what they had been doing was fucking each other senseless. His smile widened as his hand unconsciously ran down the inside of his thigh when images of what they had been doing that past Thursday night to cause them to have to be seen out together on the following Friday flashed through his mind. The truth was that Draco had become accustomed to Harry’s presence in his life. Sure, in the beginning, it had just been a need to get off, but now he found himself actually enjoying Harry’s company. He almost jumped when Pansy cleared her throat pointedly.

“I think…” He paused, collecting the train of thought that the memories had interrupted. “I think I’m getting there, Pans.”

Pansy choked on the sip of tea she had just taken. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

“Well…” Draco shifted in his chair, uncomfortable beneath her intense gaze. “It _has_ been eight months and–”

“And you’ve always had a thing for him.”

“–and things tend to develop over the course of time when you have that kind of connection,” he continued as though Pansy had not spoken. Some things were best left alone, Draco had discovered. “What I want to know is exactly who it was who spotted us.”

“Who turned you in, you mean?”

“Who’s being turned in?”

It was almost comical watching Pansy’s eyes widen at the sound of the second voice coming from just outside the door. It took Harry a few seconds to enter the informal dining room where Draco and Pansy sat having morning tea, but the wait was worth every second for Draco. He turned in his chair just as Harry entered, a hand running through his wild hair. His jeans were slung low on his hips, barely covering the end of the black treasure trail that Draco knew only too well. The loose t-shirt he wore was old and soft, Draco knew, as he had been wearing it to bed for the past three days. He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from laughing out loud at the look of complete shock on Pansy’s face.

“Rita Skeeter has a front-page article on us this morning.”

Harry paused just behind Draco’s chair, hand out in a silent request for the paper. It was clear that he had only just woken, despite it being past ten. His free hand scrubbed over his eyes, which were puffy and a little bloodshot. He sniffled when Draco handed him the paper.

Draco’s eyes flicked back to Pansy. Her gaze switched between him and Harry at such a rapid pace that Draco was a little surprised that she hadn’t made herself dizzy. She kept quiet, but Draco knew that the second Harry left, he would be bombarded with questions. His attention was dragged back behind him when Harry scoffed.

“Had to happen eventually, right? Surprised it took this long.” He reached down to squeeze Draco’s shoulder before turning back towards the door. “I’m going to shower.” Just as he reached the door, he turned back. “Good morning, Parkinson.”

Pansy had the decency to wait until the sound of Harry’s footsteps had faded back up the stairs before she exploded.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” she hissed. “You have been holding out on me! How long has this been going on? Why is he waking up in the Manor? Have you told anyone else? What about your parents?”

Draco couldn’t help smiling as she ran out of breath and just glared at him. “I haven’t been hold–” he began before she interrupted.

“What, precisely, would you call it, then?”

Draco cleared his throat and shifted in his chair again. “Do you want me to answer your questions, or not?”

Pansy pursed her lips, but waved a hand towards him. He took it as the invitation it clearly was.

“Firstly, I have not been ‘holding out on you’; not exactly. This thing with Harry staying over is a relatively new development–”

“ _Harry_?”

“Shut-up.”

“Come on, Draco. He’s spending nights with you, you’re calling him Harry; just call it what it is.”

Draco sighed. “It isn’t _anything_. Not officially.”

Something strange squirmed in his stomach, but he ignored it. What he had with Harry didn’t need to be classified; it just _was_. Putting a label on it might ruin it. He rolled his eyes when Pansy raised an eyebrow at him again.

“And you seem _so_ happy with this state of affairs.”

“Don’t try to analyse me, Pans. I’m fine with how things are, why complicate it?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco, I _know_ you. I know that you aren’t happy unless you have a guarantee, whether it’s in business, romance, or just life in general. I cannot see how someone like you was ever happy with casual sex. Your brain just doesn’t work that way.”

“Oh, so now you can read minds?”

“No, but I can read you. Look, I have known you damn near my entire life. You don’t share well; you never have. So, the idea of you being happy with someone who could possibly be going out with other people on nights that he is not with you just does not make sense.”

“Pans…”

Draco sighed. He knew she was right: this was against his character. He had never been happy with a casual relationship before, so why it had to be different with Harry, he did not know. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. What had started as an amusing way to shock Pansy had turned into some kind of therapy session for him. It was not a situation he was enjoying.

“Have you considered telling him?”

He re-opened one eye and glared. “Telling him what?”

“That you’re in love with him. That you want to get married and have a whole Quidditch team worth of babies. That the very thought of him being with someone else makes you want to cast Unforgivables.” When all he did was glare some more, she sighed. “Clearly, being with him has not improved your sense of humour.”

“I didn’t have one to begin with.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all melodramatic on me. I’m not going to tell you what to say, obviously: only you know what needs to be said. Can I suggest telling him the truth, though? Even if it’s something as simple as ‘I don’t like the idea of you seeing anyone else’.”

Draco had no idea how his lazy Sunday morning had taken such a turn. Leaning back against the soft cushion behind him and re-closing his eyes, he sighed.

“If I promise to say something to him, do you promise to stop nagging?”

“Only if you give me the full rundown tomorrow.”

Draco reopened his eyes again when the sound of Pansy’s teacup clinking down onto the saucer reached his ears. Standing before her chair, she was straightening her skirt. He cocked his head to the side as he watched her.

“Leaving me to my doom?”

“A doom of your own creation.”

It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes. “You know, it wasn’t a doom until you opened your big mouth.”

“Until I pointed out the truth, you mean?”

He smiled as he rose to see her out. No matter what she had pointed out to him – be it the truth or not – he knew that Pansy was right: he did need to speak to Harry about the whatever it was that they had together. She returned his smile as he bent to place a kiss on her cheek.

“Good luck. I’ll be expecting details.”

Shaking his head, Draco made his way up and through the Manor. He knew he would find Harry in the main bathroom; he’d always preferred it to Draco’s ensuite. Steam fogged the windows and vanity mirror when Draco stepped into the room, but the water wasn’t running. He found Harry standing before the full-length mirror across the room in just a towel, examining a recently-acquired hex mark. It ran up his right-hand side, starting from just above his navel, and running upwards to curve around his ribcage towards his spine.

“How did you even manage that?”

Harry jumped and spun, his hand automatically moving to his hip, where his wand usually rested. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Do I make you paranoid, Potter?”

Crossing his arms, he leant back against the marble tiles, simply watching as Harry’s muscles relaxed. It always took a few seconds for Harry’s instinct to curse anything that snuck up on him to retreat, and Draco knew the fastest way to encourage that was to not make any more sudden moves. He’d learnt that one the hard way early on.

“No, I–” Harry paused. His face scrunched up for a couple of seconds before he let out a huge sneeze, bending double as it echoed through the room. “Ugh.”

“Bless you.” Draco waved a hand, hovering a box of tissues towards Harry. “Have you also caught a cold?”

“Thank you. And, no, I don’t feel sick.” He paused again to blow his nose. “Maybe it’s the spring weather?”

Draco’s nose crinkled. “Charming.”

“Bite me, Malfoy.”

“You look beat up enough already.”

They rarely discussed Harry’s injuries. Partially because, for so long during this _thing_ they had, Draco simply could not have cared what happened to Harry outside of what they had together. As long as he had been complete enough to bring Draco to orgasm, he was fine with it. Or, he had been. When Harry had arrived back at the Manor Friday evening with his newly-acquired injury, Draco had tutted and helped to heal it as best he could. His potions skills came in handy with things like bruises and muscle aches, but hex marks were something different. From what Draco could tell, this was something that had to heal on its own. It was his turn to jump when Harry moved, breaking Draco’s line-of-sight with the hex mark.

“You should see the other guy.” Harry grinned when Draco shot him a stern look. “It doesn’t hurt, really.”

“May I?”

Surprise flittered across Harry’s features, but he nodded and raised his arm. Watching carefully, Draco waited for him to wince as he run his fingers along the mark, giving the lie to his last statement. It didn’t happen, though. The mark was a dark bruise, all purple and yellow, with edges of red. It looked angry and painful, but if Harry’s unrestricted movement was anything to go by, Draco had to believe him when he said it did not hurt. He ran his fingers softly along it, tracing the slight bumps it had created along Harry’s skin.

“There’s no pain at all?”

Harry shrugged. “Nope. I mean, it hurt when it first happened, but after that first jolt of pain, nothing. Maybe it only scraped past me.”

As close as he was to the mark the hex had left on Harry’s skin, Draco highly doubted that. He kept his mouth shut, however. If Harry wasn’t in pain, then who was Draco to question his assessment of his own health? He let out a sound of protest when Harry shoved him aside.

“Ah-CHOO!”

The sound echoed around the room again, causing Draco’s ears to ring. “Are you certain you aren’t ill?”

He could feel his nose wrinkling at the thought again. Harry straightened and blew his nose once more.

“I’m sure. I don’t feel sick, I swear!” A sly look crossed Harry’s face when he met Draco’s eyes. “Why? Worried about what me getting sick would do to your sex life?”

“Please, Potter,” Draco scoffed. “You act as though you are the only thing I have going at the moment.”

It was an automatic retort, but the response it received from Harry sent a jolt through Draco’s stomach. His eyes darkened for a few seconds, his arms went around his middle, and he pulled away a step. The thought occurred to Draco that the remark had hurt Harry, but he pushed it aside just as soon as he had it. That was just the influence of the conversation he had had with Pansy. Harry recovered quickly, straightening and facing Draco properly.

“Really?” He allowed the towel he wore to drop to the floor. “I should just leave if you have a date, then, right?”

Draco’s eyes travelled the length of him. Besides the hex mark, very few scars marred his skin. Not that Harry’s skin was what he was focussed on at that particular moment. From the bottom of the hex mark, it was very easy for Draco’s eyes to slip to the trail of hair leading down from Harry’s navel. One side of his mouth quirked upwards when he saw Harry’s cock twitch beneath his gaze.

“You’re not going anywhere, Potter.”

The deep chuckle Harry gave out was swallowed as Draco stepped up and claimed his lips. Tangling one hand through the mess of hair at the back of Harry’s head, Draco angled him so the kiss was easier. Harry didn’t seem to want to give in that easily, though. He pressed forward, causing Draco to hit the wall behind them with a soft thump.

“Ow. Hey, wha–”

Draco bit his tongue when Harry stepped away and fell to his knees before him. Harry’s rough hands made quick work of Draco’s trousers, unbuttoning them and stripping them and his pants to his knees in a matter of seconds. Draco’s stomach flipped as desire flooded through him at Harry’s urgency. He didn’t get to enjoy the sensation for long before Harry leant in to begin to nibble the inside of his thigh.

“Harry…”

The water on the tiles behind him soaked into Draco’s shirt as he instinctively pressed against them, trying to get leverage to raise himself a little higher. He placed one hand back in Harry’s hair before rising to his toes and spreading his legs a bit more, giving Harry better access.

“Needy this morning, aren’t you?”

Draco let out a sound that was part-agreeance, part-moan. Harry’s responding chuckle vibrated through him, sending jolts of need straight to his hardening cock. The sharp nips of Harry’s teeth followed along the inside of Draco’s thigh. Harry hitched Draco’s leg up onto his shoulder, giving himself better access so he could suck on a particular patch of skin. A sharp jab of pain accompanied the pleasure that shot through Draco’s stomach, causing him to let out what sounded embarrassingly like a whine. His hand clenched and tugged on Harry’s hair.

“Alright, then.”

It was all the warning Draco got before Harry released him and took him into his mouth. Thrown off-balance, Draco could only whine at the sucking sensation all around his now fully hard cock. He kept his hand clenched in Harry’s hair, using it as a way to prevent himself from toppling over. The rapid pace Harry set kept Draco just on the edge of not knowing exactly what he would do next. Just as he was falling into a rhythm, Harry pulled off him, stood, and spun him around. His trousers fell to the floor, nearly causing him to stumble again. Draco let out another sound of protest, but the preparation charms being cast shut him up. Harry’s pace caused Draco’s head to spin a little, but he didn’t object any further. Arching his back, he offered himself.

“You are beautiful, do you know that?” Harry paused to mumble a protection charm. “Look at you, all prim and proper, with your pants around your ankles. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Draco’s eyes slid closed as pleasure rushed through him at the praise. One of the things that had drawn him to Harry so strongly in the first place, was Harry’s seeming innate ability to know just what to say to stroke Draco’s ego. Harry’s hands gripped Draco’s hips, drawing him backwards a little.

“Ready for me?” Harry chuckled when Draco hummed. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Draco hissed just as the head of Harry’s cock nudged at his cheeks. “Please.”

Harry kept his rapid pace. His hands were rough against Draco’s skin as he guided him into position, his blunt nails digging into Draco’s hips. When he finally breached him, Draco let out a soft moan.

“Yesss…”

A sharp jab of pain turned the word more into a hiss than anything else. While the charms were good – they did the job, at any rate – Draco had always preferred to do things the old-fashioned way. Not that he objected to basically being manhandled, he thought, as Harry finally came to rest inside him.

“Draco…”

Harry’s rough hands with their short, blunt fingers ran over as much of Draco as Harry could reach. The palms flattened as they slid up Draco’s ribcage, one moving to rub over his nipple, the other back down to grip his hip. Draco’s head tipped back when Harry’s lips connected with the pulse point in his throat.

“Move.”

Harry hummed. The grip he had on Draco’s hip tightened as he pulled out, then thrust back in. Draco couldn’t help shuddering a little at the sensation. He arched his back as Harry continued to move, taking him in deeper each time.

The rapid pace that Harry had set continued, with him rubbing his free hand all over Draco’s chest and down his thighs, working him up faster than he had in a long time. The building sensations in Draco’s chest all jumbled together. He squeezed his eyes shut, simply giving in as he found himself losing control. The addition of Harry’s hand moving to stroke his cock proved to be too much. Clenching his hands against the tiles in front of him, Draco came with a deep groan, coating both his shirt and Harry’s hand. As focussed on the sensations flooding through him as he was, he almost missed Harry stiffening behind him. They both collapsed to the floor of the bathroom once Harry’s orgasm released him.

“You know,” Draco began when he thought himself capable of intelligent speech again. “Pansy wanted me to come up here and talk to you, not allow you to–”

“Have my dirty way with you?”

Draco huffed as amusement spread through him. Glancing over to where Harry sat beside him, he couldn’t help smiling. Harry’s eyes were closed, his lashes creating a half-moon shape beneath them. His chest rose and fell rapidly with his breathing, causing Draco’s smile to widen a little. Something squirmed in his chest, a warm sensation spreading through him as he simply sat and watched Harry breathe. His smile faded as he realised that, yes, Pansy was right: they needed to have The Talk. He started guiltily when Harry opened his eyes and caught him staring.

“Don’t tell me you actually want me to carry on a conversation after that?”

Draco’s smile returned. “No. I do believe that you may need to join me in having a second shower, however.”

Harry’s responding chuckle sounded knowing, causing Draco to shake his head. His mind raced back to the conversation with Pansy as his insides writhed again. They would have the talk they needed to, he knew. There was no way to avoid it now that it seemed that Pansy had woken him to the fact that this relationship wasn’t as casual for him as he had thought it was. He could put it off for a day or two, though. That wouldn’t hurt anything.

*~*

_Monday, April 26, 2004_  


**MYSTERY ILLNESS STRIKES DOWN AURORS!**

The wizarding world’s first line of defence against Dark Magic has taken a blow this morning, with sources at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies claiming that half of the entire force of Aurors have presented with a mystery illness. Symptoms are said to display as though the victim has caught a strong cold, with a stuffy nose, cough, and headache. No one knows exactly what has happened to London’s elite force, but there are strong fears of another Dark attack… FULL ARTICLE, PAGE 3-4.

Draco sat at his dining room table, the newspaper held loosely in his hand. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared at the partial story on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_. Certain phrases jumped out at him, causing a sinking sensation in his stomach. 

_…stuffy nose, cough, and headache…_

Harry’s sniffles and sneezes the day before jolted back into Draco’s mind as he read and re-read the description of the so-called mystery illness that half the Auror Corps had caught. He had been disgusted at the thought of Harry coming near him.

_…fears of another Dark attack…_

This sentence caused fear to claw at Draco’s insides. The symptoms had begun two days after Harry had been struck with the hex that wrapped around his ribcage, leaving him with a deep purple and yellow mark. The mark had looked strange to Draco, he remembered, but he hadn’t said anything. Could that hex be what was causing the symptoms? Was it possible that Harry hadn’t been the only one struck? What if it wasn’t an illness, but a curse? He lurched to his feet when the floo alarm rang through the Manor.

“Malfoy!”

Footfalls thudded dully through the Manor. The voice wasn’t one that Draco recognised immediately, causing another wave of fear to wash through him. His hand went to the hidden wand holster at his hip as he made his way a little unsteadily into the hall.

“Weasley?”

Standing in the doorway that led to the formal living room, Ronald Weasley looked about as out-of-place as it was possible to be. His hair stood up at strange angles, dirt clung to the sleeve of his Auror uniform, and there was a slightly wild look to his eyes that Draco could make out even from down the hall. Draco took a few cautious steps forward.

“How did you get in here?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re needed at the hospital.”

Draco could feel the blood draining from his face. “It’s true, then? What the _Prophet_ said?”

Weasley nodded sharply. “Half of us are down, Harry included. Look, I’ll explain more when we get there, but we have to go _now_.”

His urgency caused Draco’s skin to clam. He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself before leading the way back through the Floo.

St. Mungo’s was always crowded, Draco knew. That morning, however, was worse than he had ever seen. People clambered at the Admissions Desk, pushing and talking over each other. Draco had to figure that not all of them would be patients there and a shriek proved him right.

“Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley!” Rita Skeeter’s bright blonde hair bobbed into Draco’s vision just off to his right as he tried to follow Weasley through the crowd. “Would you care to give us a statement about your boyfriend, Draco? How about you, Ron?”

“Don’t have a boyfriend, Rita,” Weasley grunted as she attempted to block their passage.

He made his way relatively easily through the crowds, his height and uniform proving an advantage. Draco, however, had to elbow his way through the masses in his wake. He could only hope that they did not get separated, because he was unsure whether he would be admitted to Harry’s room without ‘officially’ being counted as either family or a friend. He gasped when a hand grabbed his elbow.

“No comment for me, Draco? No snide little remark?”

There was a malicious tone to Rita’s voice as she tugged at Draco’s elbow, trying to pull him backwards through the crowds. Panic stabbed at Draco’s chest, fuelled by the knowledge that Weasley was pulling ahead of him. His hand went straight to his wand as Rita managed to tug him around to face her.

“Back the fuck off,” he snarled, jabbing his wand into Rita’s stomach.

Her green eyes flashed as she smiled at him. “I thought we were friends, Draco. You were ever so helpful during the Triwizard Tournament. Are you sure you don’t want to give me a scoop this time?”

An acid green feather caught Draco’s attention. His top lip curled as he saw the Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling across a hovering piece of parchment.

“I said _back off_.”

“Skeeter!” A large hand clapped loudly down on Rita’s shoulder, causing her to jump. “We’re leaving.”

The rush of relief that flooded through Draco at the sight of Weasley standing before him had his wand hand shaking a little. He nodded and ducked around the two of them, heading swiftly for the elevator.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled as soon as the two of them were alone in the elevator.

Weasley shrugged. He slammed his hand against the button for the fourth floor and the elevator lurched to life.

“She’s grabbed nearly all of us at one point or another between last night and this morning.”

Draco nodded. Taking another deep breath, he held it for a few seconds before releasing it again. Weasley was staring when he raised his head.

“What?”

“Harry asked for you – specifically _you_ – by name.”

Draco’s stomach flipped. “I figured that that was why you came to retrieve me.”

“He said that you studied the hex mark before it…”

He glanced away as he trailed off, his face turning a sickly-looking shade of off-white.

“Before it what?”

Weasley merely shook his head. “You’ll see.”

A deep sense of foreboding settled over Draco at that. Questions began to crowd his mind as the elevator stopped to take on more people. Why, if the hex mark had looked strange, had he not said anything? Why had Harry not said anything, for that matter? Surely a bloody Auror would know the difference between a regular hex and an abnormal one. He shook himself out of the thoughts as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor.

“This way.”

Draco followed behind Weasley as he made his way swiftly through the ward. Down one hall and across another; it would be nearly impossible for Draco to find his way out on his own again. When they took a left at the end of yet another hall, he stopped short. The double doors shimmered with strong magic; a ward, if Draco’s assessment was correct. Even before you reached the doors, though, you had to make it through the Aurors standing guard.

“Boys.” Weasley nodded back towards Draco. “He’s with me.”

Draco’s eyes flicked between the two guards. They both stood nearly a head taller than he, with arms the size of small tree branches crossed across their chests. He nodded to the two of them as he passed; there was no point in putting them off-side.

The ward stank of potions and cleaning products. Every available chair was filled with a family member of one of the Aurors, with some even seated on the floors. All of their faces were pale and drawn, worry etched deep into the dark circles beneath their eyes. Draco’s hands clenched as he passed them, the sense of foreboding deepening as he followed Weasley.

“…I’m _fine_ , I swear! If you’d just let me–”

The voice was cut off by a hacking cough. Draco’s pace quickened as panic flooded through him. When he entered Harry’s room, it was to find him doubled over in the middle of the room, his arms wrapped around his middle. Without even thinking about the people who must have been watching him, Draco rushed over and fell to his knees before him.

“Harry…”

One of Draco’s hands immediately went to Harry’s shoulder, helping to balance him out as he attempted to take a breath. When Harry sank to his knees, it was Draco’s hand that prevented him from falling to the floor.

“Mr. Malfoy.”

“Minister.”

Draco didn’t even spare Shacklebolt the courtesy of glancing his way. Running his free hand down Harry’s spine caused Harry to groan softly, and not in a good way. Fear sent Draco’s heart thudding against his ribs.

“What is this?”

“We don’t know.”

Draco waited for whoever had spoken to continue. When the only sound in the room continued to be Harry’s harsh breathing, he glanced up. Minister Shacklebolt stood to one side of the small room. Standing with him were Gawain Robards – the Head Auror – and a man dressed in the green robes of the Mungo’s Healers. All three of them were simply watching he and Harry.

“That’s it? You don’t know? Half your fucking Auror Corps are down and you _don’t know_?”

“We have been working around the clock to discover what this could be since the first cases presented.” It was the Healer who spoke, his voice ringing out with an air of authority. “So far, all we have is that it is connected to the hexes that were cast on Friday afternoon.”

Draco nodded. “The marks are different to normal hex marks.”

“You have no idea.”

Draco frowned. When the Healer nodded towards the door, Draco glanced over to see two other Healers he had not noticed in his rush to get to Harry’s side. They stepped forward, reaching for Harry’s arms. The urge to push them away from Harry – to protect him – fluttered through Draco. He forcibly pushed it down, blocking the emotions behind it in his mind. Moving from his kneeling position on the floor, he stood at the end of Harry’s bed.

“Prepare yourself.”

The Healer pulled the sides of the hospital nightgown Harry wore aside, revealing the hex mark. At least, Draco assumed it was the same hex mark he had seen the previous morning. Long black tendrils trailed away from the thick yellowy-purple line where the hex had struck. They traced along Harry’s ribcage, following the bones until they reached his stomach. From there, they fanned out like a tree. Draco leant in, his brows drawing down as he studied the altered mark.

“I assume from your look of confusion that this is not the hex mark you recall seeing?”

Draco shook his head. “It was just the purple line yesterday morning. It looked a little red around the edges, mixed in with the yellow and purple, like a bruise.”

He automatically reached to trace his fingers along the same line he had run them the previous day, feeling the same bumps on Harry’s skin. The new black lines spreading from the original mark were different, though. There was no temperature change like there would have been with an infection. They were also completely smooth, with none of the bumps the original mark had. Draco swallowed against the rising fear in his chest, pushing it down with the rest of the unwanted emotions.

“Is it a curse?”

“It could be. We simply don’t know.”

Straightening, Draco took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He stepped away from Harry when the two Healers moved to lie him on the bed. He was still breathing harshly, almost as though there was a blockage in his windpipe. The fear that he had been unable to repress clammed Draco’s skin and swirled all through his chest, causing his hands to tremble a little as he watched Harry struggling to take a proper breath. The sure knowledge that Pansy had been right the previous morning filtered through Draco’s mind, but he clamped down on it as well, along with the rising fear. If he was to be of any use here, then he would need his wits about him. Turning, he met the eyes of the Healer.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Who says you’re needed?”

Draco’s jaw clenched as he glanced over to one of the Healers who had been holding Harry. “It is entirely possible that half of the Auror Corps have been cursed. With something that no one seems to know how to counteract, at that. Are you telling me that you have no interest in the library of an ancient family who have employed Dark Magic as a hobby for generations now? Forgive me, but that sounds counterproductive.”

“You have a library of Dark Magic?”

Draco returned his gaze to the original Healer, who still stood beside the Minister. “Not of Dark Magic, no; not any more. What I have is a collection of books that spans back centuries. Some of those books have information on hexes, curses, and the ways in which to counter them. Some of them date back hundreds of years. You are free to take some of your Healers over to the Manor if more research materials are needed.”

The Healer worked quickly. He had a team organised to travel over to the Manor within ten minutes, each of them armed with quills and parchment. Draco had to admire the detail he went into as he gave each of the Healers instructions on what they were to search for once they arrived.

“Johnson, begin your search for general hexes. Martinez, the same with curses. Maguire, look for diseases that can be caused by hexes. Beaumont, I want you searching for ways to counteract anything that sounds even remotely useful.” He turned to face Draco then, smiling a little. “Thank you for the offer of your assistance, Mr. Malfoy.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out, shouting instructions to a new set of Healers. Draco took a step towards the door to follow him, but was prevented from moving by a hand on his shoulder.

“Healer Devonshire knows what he is doing, Draco.”

Draco glanced over his shoulder to where the Minister stood just behind him. “The Manor has wards–”

“That were breached using St. Mungo’s emergency charms to allow Ron in via the Floo. The Healers will use the same method of entrance.”

“But–”

“But nothing. The Healers here are the most competent in the world. If there was anything you could do to help them, I am sure they would have asked.”

“So, what? Am I just supposed to sit here on my hands while they traipse through my house? Am I to do nothing and wait for them to come up with a solution?”

Shacklebolt nodded, a sympathetic expression in his eyes. “You are in the same boat as the rest of us. All we can really do is wait.”

Draco’s stomach swooped as the fear he had been holding back returned with a vengeance. Shaking Shacklebolt’s hand off his shoulder, he was about to protest further when Shacklebolt stepped away from him.

“Ron, I thought I told you to get some sleep?”

Draco had honestly forgotten Weasley’s presence in the room. His eyes followed Shacklebolt as he crossed the room to where Weasley stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m fine.”

The bags beneath Weasley’s eyes combined with the fact that he appeared to be swaying a little told Draco a different story. It seemed the Minister was not fooled either. Pointing his wand at one of the chairs positioned in the opposite corner, he Transfigured it into a soft-looking bed.

“Lie down. Get some sleep. You have been on your feet for well over fifteen hours now. If you’re going to be of any use to us, I need you to be at full strength.”

“Hermione–”

“I will Floo her the first chance I get. Do not make me make this an order, Auror.”

Weasley sighed, but obeyed. He seemed to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Shacklebolt turned to Draco.

“I am trusting you to keep an eye on both of them. If anything changes – anything at all – call one of the Mediwitches.”

He left the room with a swish of his robes, leaving Draco alone with two sleeping men and his own thoughts. His thoughts were not something Draco liked to be left with at the best of times; this time was worse.

His hands began to shake when Harry took another shuddering breath. Spinning to face him, Draco’s mental walls all came down at once. Every emotion he had suppressed, every reaction he had been holding back since reading the preview of that article in the newspaper that morning, all came crashing down on him. His stomach swooped, the trembling in his hands worsened, and the hairs on his arms stood up as goose bumps ran all over him. Draco managed to take the three steps needed for him to fall into the hard, plastic chair beside Harry’s bed before his knees gave way. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the bed and covered his face with his hands.

_Think, Draco!_

His breathing quickened as he felt adrenalin coursing through him, causing his heart to race. He had to think. There had to be something he could be doing.

_I never told him…_

He huffed a breath out and attempted to shove the thought to the back of his mind. It proved impossible, though.

_Pansy was right and I never told him. What if I don’t get the chance? If I lose him…_

Pain lanced through Draco’s chest as he cut the last thought off. It was too early for him to be entertaining what if scenarios. His hands clenched in his hair as he lowered his head. Control; he had to get control over himself again. He was building towards a full-blown panic attack, he knew, which would be useless to everyone involved.

_Calm down. Breathe in… Hold it… Breathe out…_

Draco had no idea how long he sat there, simply trying to calm his racing heart and shaking hands. The breathing exercise was something he had learned in the wake of the war, and he had discovered that it came in useful in many situations. He jumped when a hand landed on his arm.

“Draco?”

Harry’s voice was rough. Draco’s head snapped up so quickly that the muscles in his neck ached. Confusion clear in his fever-bright eyes, Harry was staring at him from the bed.

“Harry…”

Relief spread through Draco’s chest so quickly his head spun. He pushed himself to his feet, albeit a little unsteadily.

“You came.”

Harry’s hand slipped down Draco’s arm to brush their fingers together. He opened his mouth to continue, but was stopped by another coughing fit. His free arm wrapped around his middle, as though it hurt his ribs. Fighting against the urge to cast a diagnostic charm himself, Draco spun to retrieve one of the mediwitches. Harry’s hand tightened around his, though, lacing their fingers together.

“Wait.”

Sweat covered Harry’s forehead, causing it to shine. He was still panting, struggling to catch his breath. Draco shook his head.

“You need to see the Mediwitch.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Draco, listen to m–”

Harry was cut off when he began to cough again. Draco rolled his eyes.

“I am listening and what I hear tells me that you need medical attention.”

He pulled his hand free of Harry’s and made his way to the door.

“We have to leave.”

Draco paused with his hand hovering over the handle. He should continue on, he knew, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Leave?” He turned back to Harry, who was struggling to push himself up on the bed. “Why?”

One of Harry’s arms was still wrapped around his middle. It took a few tries for him to catch his breath enough to speak again.

“I have to stop them.”

It seemed like such a simple statement and, under any other circumstances, it would have been. Looking at Harry now, though, the very thought of him even managing to stand up straight let alone stop a band of Dark wizards was laughable. Draco shook his head.

“You’re delirious, Potter. Lie back down.”

“I’m not… not delirious. They’re at the warehouse.”

Harry swung his legs off the bed, but was prevented from attempting to stand by another coughing fit. Moving automatically, Draco reached him in time to place his hands on his shoulders, stopping him from toppling off the bed.

“No. You are not leaving this bed.”

Harry leant forward, his forehead coming to rest on Draco’s chest. Standing there, Draco was struck by a strong sense of familiarity. This could have been any random weekend morning, with Harry just out of the shower, his skin gleaming with water. Draco’s hands moved instinctively, one to tangle through Harry’s hair, the other to slide down his back. Warmth spread through him when he heard Harry let out a soft sigh. The fact that it was followed directly by another coughing fit threw Draco back to the present with a jolt.

“Draco…”

“Absolutely not, Potter. You are far too ill to leave this bed, let alone run off chasing bad guys. Lie down.”

Above Harry’s protests, which were weak at best, Draco got him back on the bed. Standing and watching as Harry’s chest rose and fell in short gasps, fear flooded through him again. Unable to resist, Draco ran a hand through Harry’s hair.

“Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

The corridors of the ward were as busy now as they had been when Draco had first arrived. He slipped around people and odd-looking contraptions that he had to assume were medical instruments of some sort. The mediwitch’s station was just as crowded when he arrived. Pushing through the jostling people, he managed to grab one of the mediwizard’s attention as he was trying to exit the station.

“I’ve just come from Harry Potter’s room. I was told to inform one of you when something changed?” The Mediwizard nodded. “Well, he’s awake and attempting to leave.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” the man muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Bloody Aurors, I swear. Thank you, I’ll go there straightaway. You may as well grab a coffee or something, this could take a while if he is anything like the rest of them. The café is just over there.”

Draco’s stomach grumbled. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realised that he had missed lunch. Between his miniature meltdown and the argument with Harry, time had simply slipped away from him.

The crowd had not thinned out at all when Draco exited the café with his sandwich and coffee. In fact, there seemed to be even more of them, and all of them seemed to be in a rush. Guarding his coffee from being bumped, he made his way slowly down the halls. The people running through the corridor all ignored him, which he was grateful for. If he could just manage to eat in peace, maybe he could have some time to sort through the confusing mix of emotions coursing through him. He found a quiet corner and sat down.

He knew that Pansy had been joking the previous day – mostly – when she had spoken about him being in love with Harry. Certain visceral reactions he had had that morning, however, would indicate that Pansy had been right. Or, as close to being right as she ever came when she was guessing at Draco’s love-life. Which left him with the question: _am I in love with Harry_?

Munching slowly on his sandwich, he ran through that morning in his mind. When Weasley had stepped through the Floo into the Manor, Draco had nearly been frozen with fear from reading just the preview of what looked to be a two-page article on the so-called illness the Aurors had been struck down by. He’d also been overwhelmed by that very same fear when he had been left alone with Harry after the Healers and Minister had left. In fact, it had nearly led to a full-blown panic attack at the thought that he could lose Harry at any point.

Draco shook his head as he stood. There seemed to be only one logical conclusion to this train of thought. Whether he was quite ready to face that conclusion, however, he highly doubted. He scowled as one of the people rushing through the corridor nearly crashed into him.

“…I don’t know how, but he’s gone…”

Draco rolled his eyes. With the amount of people in that ward in particular that morning, it was probably to be expected that they would lose track of someone. He made his way back through the crush of people, all of whom seemed intent on getting where they needed to be at top speed. His stomach seemed to drop into his toes when he pushed the door to Harry’s room open to find it empty.

“Malfoy!”

Draco spun, almost colliding with Weasley. He did not get time to regain his balance, as Weasley grabbed his elbow and began marching him down the corridors, leading him away from the room.

“He’s left.” Weasley’s tone was tense.

“What?”

“Harry. When the Mediwizards arrived, they found his bed empty. No one knows how he managed it, but he’s left.” Weasley stopped in front of a crowded room. “Thought you’d want to know.”

He released Draco’s arm, leaving him off-balance. Draco’s head seemed to be spinning with all the new information he had been handed in such a short amount of time. He stepped in front of Weasley when he attempted to step around him and enter the room.

“Wait.”

“Look, Malfoy. They’re mobilising what is left of the Aurors now. I have to be in there, I just came to find you as a courtesy, because… Well.” Weasley’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red and he refused to meet Draco’s eyes. “Harry would have wanted me to tell you, if he was thinking straight. Probably.”

He moved to the side, but Draco stepped in front of him again. “I’m going with you.”

Draco blinked, shock running through him. He had spoken before he had even had time to think through what he was going to say, but he didn’t give himself time to regret it.

“Harry told me he wanted to leave. He said something about a warehouse–”

Draco let out an embarrassing sound when Weasley grabbed his arm again and dragged him into the room with him. He found himself in a room full of the remnants of the Auror Corps, each of them in varying states of disarray. Each one Draco could see looked as though they had been sleeping in their uniform. The dark circles beneath each of their eyes matched those beneath Weasley’s, and some of them even sported injuries. It did not inspire much confidence.

“Auror Weasley?”

“Tell them what you just told me.”

Draco was shoved towards the front of the room. Head Auror Robards was standing before the rest of them, with the Minister beside him. Draco swallowed, trying to clear himself of all the unnecessary emotions that were once again beginning to cloud his mind.

“Harry told me he wanted to leave. He said there was a warehouse he needed to get to.”

Robards’ dark brows drew down. “A warehouse? That was the exact word he used?”

Draco nodded. “‘I have to stop them’, is what he said at first. When I questioned him, he said: ‘They’re at the warehouse’.”

He was unprepared for the flurry of activity his words caused. Aurors began moving about the room, each checking a different map. Weasley nudged Draco out of his way so he could step up to one of the tables.

“Port of Tyne seems the most logical.”

“Newcastle? Are you sure?”

“Where else?”

“Falmouth.”

“ _Falmouth_ , are you shitting me? Can you honestly see Thorfinn Rowle in a place like that?”

Draco started at the name. He stepped up behind Weasley, attempting to see what they were all crowding around.

“Look, Quinn, I get that the Falcons are your favourite team, but you don’t have to inject them into everything–”

“This isn’t about fucking Quidditch, you idiots! One of our own is missing–”

“And the Tyne River makes the most sense! They have shipping containers there he can hide–”

“So does Falmouth!”

“Listen–”

“ENOUGH!”

The voice was loud enough that the entire room seemed to shiver to a stop. Draco could barely even hear anyone breathe. He managed to get a look at the table they had all crowded around when Weasley turned towards the front of the room. It was covered in maps, each of them showing what looked to be a different port somewhere in the United Kingdom. He didn’t get to look too long, though, as one of the Aurors stepped in front of him, blocking his view.

“There are enough of us left to split into two groups. Williamson, take one group and go to Falmouth. Weasley and the rest, go to Newcastle. You have fifteen minutes.”

Draco was once again shoved to the side as the Aurors grouped themselves in what looked to be predetermined groups. There was no way that he was going to allow himself to be treated like that, however. He grabbed Weasley as he attempted to leave the room.

“You’re a civilian, Malfoy,” Weasley stated before Draco even had the chance to speak. “They won’t let you come.”

“I know Thorfinn Rowle, Weasley,” Draco countered. “He was a Death Eater, the one sent out after you and Harry when you said _his_ name. He stayed in the Manor during the war. I _know_ him.”

Weasley shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re a civilian. We can’t both protect you and look for Harry.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Really?”

The disbelieving look Weasley shot him sent a jolt of annoyance through Draco’s stomach. “Yes, really. I survived the war as well. Everyone knows that you were all offered the positions just because you fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Well, I fought in that exact same battle as well. I might not have been shooting Disarming charms at the Dark Lord, but I survived.”

Weasley sighed. “Look, it’s not up to me. You’d be a danger to the rest of us. I can’t allow it. I’m sorry.”

With that, he shook Draco’s hand off and marched out of the room. He was followed closely by Robards, who didn’t even spare Draco a single glance. Draco stopped Shacklebolt as he was passing as well, however.

“Minister–”

“I heard the exchange and I am sorry, but I agree with Ron. You would be too much of a distraction to the Aurors. It is clear that you care for Harry, but that is not enough of a reason for me to allow a civilian to be risked out in the field. You’ll have to wait here with everyone else.”

Draco stood and stared at the door for a long time after it closed. A cold kind of numbness came over him as the Minister’s words began to sink in.

_I am going to lose him and I won’t even be there when it happens…_

Nausea rose in Draco’s throat, choking him as the panic and fear settled over him once again. He did not allow it to overwhelm him this time, however. Taking a firm grip on his Occlumency powers, he locked everything behind strong walls in his mind. Placing both hands on one of the tables before him, he ran through things as logically as possible.

The information he had told him that Thorfinn Rowle must have been involved somehow with the fight that past Friday afternoon. He and whoever was with him had cast some kind of hex at the Aurors, taking out half of the entire Corps in one fell swoop. Harry had apparently worked out where they were hiding sometime between the Friday when he had been struck by the hex, and the Sunday, when the symptoms had begun to manifest. Draco sighed.

‘The warehouse’ wasn’t enough of a clue for him to be able to work out exactly where Harry had taken off to. Apparently, though, it also wasn’t enough for the rest of the Aurors, either. So, which group should he follow? If he went to the wrong place and Harry managed to get himself injured further – or worse – then he didn’t think he would be able to cope with the guilt. Then again, if he managed to find Harry, but Weasley and Shacklebolt were right and he was a distraction, it could even be he who was the cause of Harry being injured further. Hanging his head, Draco took a deep breath.

It was a fifty-fifty shot either way. Clenching his hands on the desk, he huffed out the breath. Falmouth or Newcastle? Casting his mind back over what he knew of Rowle, Draco frowned. There had to be something there; something that would give him a clue…

_His family!_

Images flooded Draco’s mind of the Dark Lord taunting Rowle with the lives of his family. Rowle’s parents and siblings were long dead, but there was a vague memory of a woman in Draco’s mind; a woman who was to be picked up by Death Eaters at a Falcons game.

“Falmouth.”

His decision having been made, he made his way swiftly through the ward and out to the entrance lobby of the hospital. He even managed to dodge around Rita, who was still waiting in the lobby. The Apparition point was mercifully empty of the crowds when he finally made it there.

Falmouth in the spring was… average. Draco had made a point of not visiting anywhere that held no interest to him, so he had never actually bothered to find out if there was even a wizarding town there. It was easy enough to find the docks, however: all he had to do was follow the scent of the water. It seemed to him that a lot of the working docks had been converted over the years, leaving only a small space that held any of the shipping containers the Auror had mentioned. Casting a quick Disillusionment Charm, he slipped out into the yard.

The shipping containers were huge, metal things painted in reds, blues, greens, and whites. They all appeared to be empty, from what Draco could tell, but the Muggles still had guard dogs roaming the property. Skirting out and around one of them, Draco held his breath. It passed right by him without even stopping. Smiling a little to himself, Draco moved on.

The yard appeared empty, with the exception of the dogs. Draco turned down an aisle created by the huge containers, keeping an eye out for any sign of danger. He was about to give up and Apparate to Newcastle when a strange sound caught his attention. Turning to his right, he walked down another aisle. A flash of red light and a muffled _thump_ from the end of the aisle caused Draco’s heart to leap into his throat.

“This way!”

It wasn’t a voice he recognised, but Draco followed as quietly as possible, trying to work out exactly who was there already. His Disillusionment Charm helped, he knew, as he crouched down in the shadow of one of the containers at the end of the row. A second flash of light drew him further out into the sunlight. What he saw there had his blood freezing in his veins.

“Back! I _said_ , back!”

Rowle stood in a clearing, his blond hair shining in the mid-afternoon sunlight. The Aurors who had come to this dock – the ones led by Williamson – were all standing around him in a circle, their wands drawn. Bodies lay off to the sides, but Draco couldn’t focus on any of them to find out if they were friend or foe. Held against Rowle’s chest with a wandtip pointed at his throat was Harry.

“Take the shot.”

Draco flinched. Harry’s voice was strained, but still defiant.

“Take one more step and I’ll splatter pretty boy’s brains all over the ground.”

“Take the goddamned shot!”

The Aurors circled, not stepping closer, as Rowle had demanded, but also not stepping back. Draco’s nerves shivered, but he forced himself to move. Just standing there would be of no help to anyone. He drew his wand as he moved, trying to get out and around the back of Rowle.

“Come on, Rowle, we can talk this out.”

“No talking. Back off and let me leave.”

The very sound of Rowle’s voice sent a shiver down Draco’s spine. He shoved the memories it brought back to the back of his mind, however. Slipping down another row of containers allowed him to come out just behind where Rowle and Harry stood.

“I’m not going to wait much longer. Let me go, or your little Saviour gets it.”

“Will someone please just Stun him?”

Draco’s hands clenched. Honestly, did Harry have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever? He had just crouched down to examine the scene before him when a bolt of purple light flew across the clearing. Time seemed to freeze in the few seconds before all hell broke loose.

Curses, hexes and jinxes all began to fly through the air. People screamed as they were hit. Dirt burst into the air when the spells missed their marks. Draco was only focussed on one thing, though. Standing, he sprinted across the clearing, dodging flying bodies as he ran.

“Harry!” He shouldered through the line of Aurors, shoving them aside. “Harry!”

Rowle was still standing in the middle of the circle. Now, however, Harry was facing off with him. Bolts of red and green flew between them at such speed, Draco felt a little dizzy. He knew Harry couldn’t keep the pace up, however; not with how much the hex he had taken was weakening him. Circling around the two of them, Draco kept his wand hand out, trying to force himself to keep it steady. He moved towards Harry, figuring that he was of more help trying to move Harry out of the way if needed, than trying to take Rowle out. Despite his words to Shacklebolt, Draco knew that he was basically useless in a real fight.

He watched carefully, keeping an eye out for the chance he needed. It never came, however. Rowle managed to send a jet of blue light towards Harry’s right leg. It sizzled through the shield Harry had cast, and sliced through his calf. Without even thinking, Draco shot off a Stunner that had Rowle flying through the air. He heard him crash against one of the containers across the clearing, but he didn’t care. His only focus now was on Harry. Falling to his knees in the dirt, he cast the strongest shield charm he could manage over the both of them.

“You stupid bastard,” he muttered as he got a close look at the slice to Harry’s calf.

“Draco? Where…?”

Draco reached out, his fingers brushing along the undamaged part of Harry’s calf, causing him to hiss in pain. “I’ve got to get you back to the hospital.”

“Draco.” Harry reached out, his hand trailed along Draco’s sleeve. “Why are you here?”

Draco’s eyes dropped to where Harry’s hand gripped his sleeve, only just realising then that he still had the Disillusionment Charm on. His heart thudded in his chest as his gaze went to Harry’s face. His eyes were still bright, but Draco had to figure that that was more adrenalin and pain than fever by that point. His brow was shining with sweat, and there were tiny cuts all over him. He was the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen. Leaning in, he brushed his fingers over Harry’s lips, wiping away spots of blood where he had split his lip.

“I love you.”

Harry’s eyes widened and his mouth opened, whether to respond or not, Draco didn’t know. He didn’t give him the chance, however. Scooping him up in his arms, he prepared to Apparate them away.

“Wait,” Harry gasped.

“What now?”

Harry let out a sound that could have been either a derisive snort or the beginning of another coughing fit. “Don’t kill him,” he called out over the sounds of the dying battle. “We still need the counter-curse.”

With that, he passed out in Draco’s arms.

*~*

_Friday, August 6, 2004_  


**MALFOY-POTTER WEDDING PHOTO EXCLUSIVE**

It was the wedding of the century. After all the trials and tribulations London’s hottest couple have been through since coming out in April, they have tied the knot in a lavish ceremony in Wiltshire. Exclusive sources say that the couple, both twenty-four, went all out for this once in a lifetime display. “Draco, being the perfectionist that he is, insisted that everything be in white,” our source, who was one of the few lucky members of elite British society who was invited to the exclusive ceremony, tells us. “His robes were trimmed in platinum, while Harry’s were trimmed in gold. They drank from tailor-made glasses, which had rims of twenty-four carat gold. Fifty doves were released into the air as they kissed, each of them carrying a letter Harry and Draco had written to each other over the past twenty-five days… FULL STORY AND EXCLUSIVE TEN-PAGES OF PICTURES INSIDE!

Draco smiled as Harry snorted with laughter. Lounging on a daybed on the rooftop of Prescott, Pansy’s family’s summerhouse, Harry stretched, flexing the muscles in his arms. Warmth spread slowly through Draco’s chest as he watched him.

“You know,” Harry began as he relaxed back down onto the bed. “Pansy can give Rita ‘exclusives’ on us any time she wants.”

Draco’s smile widened as amusement bubbled up inside him. “I think she likes it, actually.”

“Yeah? Maybe she should have gone into journalism.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really want to give Pansy another reason to pry into other people’s lives?”

“Her prying worked out quite well for us in the end.”

Holding out his hand so that the sun caught on his wedding band – white gold, not platinum or yellow gold – Harry turned to grin at him. Draco shook his head. Technically, Harry was right: it had been Pansy’s teasing that had given Draco the nudge he had needed back in April. Really, though, he knew that it had been the thought that he could have lost Harry that day at the docks that had been the deciding factor. The fact that Harry had come out of that day with only a few extra scars and a leg that now ached in the cold was damn-near a miracle to Draco. He caught the hand Harry was waving in front of him and laced their fingers together.

“She knows how grateful I am to her for that.”

Draco watched as Harry’s eyes darkened when he brought the finger with the wedding band on it to his lips. Moving their joined hands a little, he continued down the line of Harry’s fingers. By the time he reached the thumb, he knew he had Harry’s full attention. Harry’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

“Is Pansy what you really want to be talking about right now?”

Draco smiled when Harry rolled over to hover above him. “I’d rather not be talking at all, to tell the truth.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

Draco let out a laugh as Harry ducked his head to begin nibbling along his jawline. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Those two days back in April had changed his life forever, opening him up to a life that he had never even considered. For that, he would forever be grateful.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://hd-erised.livejournal.com/92981.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at hd_erised@livejournal.com. The author will be revealed January 8th.


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